


Windfallen

by Cali_se



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Ficlet, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 08:31:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3113081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cali_se/pseuds/Cali_se
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frodo and Pippin eat apples, and consider possibilities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Windfallen

**Author's Note:**

> Written June 2010

“Could you ever imagine fighting, Frodo?” Pippin asked, as he finished the last piece of his apple. “In a really big battle, I mean. Like the ones you hear about in the tales of old?”

The question came quite out of the blue, it seemed to Frodo, and caught him rather off guard. Whilst thinking on it, he regarded the apple he himself held in his hand, savouring the moment every hobbit loves: that moment _just before_ the eating of a thing. It was every bit as rosy as the apple Pippin had made quick work of, and Frodo had buffed it up to a gleaming shine against the fabric of his shirt. He took a bite, relishing the sweet juice as it filled his mouth with all the tastes of the changing seasons.

Pippin lay back against the grass, his eyes closed, and his apple’s nibbled core still held betwixt thumb and forefinger. “I couldn’t, anyway,” he continued. “Be in a battle, I mean." 

"No?" Frodo replied. 

“No. Now, an adventure, well, that's something else entirely. You know me, Frodo; I'm all for having an adventure. Adventures are in a Took's blood, after all. But I wouldn't want to have an adventure as dangerous as all _that_. And, of course, it would probably mean leaving the Shire, wouldn’t it? I don’t suppose a _really_ big battle would happen _here_. Would it? So I’d have to leave, without knowing when I'd be back or if I would ever be back at all. Well--” Pippin sat up again and waved his arm about, as though wielding an invisible wand. “Just look at it, Frodo. Who would want to leave this for long?”

Frodo smiled fondly at his young cousin. Yes, theirs was a beautiful place indeed. And it was peaceful too, and protected; almost hidden away entirely from the world beyond, it often seemed. There was no need for Pippin to worry about battles. No need for any fighting at all… Unless, of course, one day the winds of fortune changed direction, and…

“But what if your beloved Shire _did_ fall under siege, Pippin?” Frodo said, his voice quiet and gentle. "What then? After all, the folk of Northfarthing had to defend themselves once, didn’t they? Not a huge battle, perhaps, but a battle nonetheless. What if we were attacked, as they were? I'm quite sure you would find your courage. And I do hope I would find mine too, to do what I had to do. For the Shire is dear to me too; and to defend all you love is surely a noble thing? If I were threatened, or dear uncle Bilbo, or you and Merry… Or if Sam--” Frodo broke off, as if he found the thought too much to bear. 

Pippin stayed silent for a few moments, while he considered everything Frodo had said, and then shook his head with an air of defiance. “No, Frodo. I won’t have it. No-one would ever dare threaten the Shire again. Not in a month of rainy Sundays.”

“Then we must hope you are right,” Frodo replied. “And trust that good will prevail always, in any event.”

“Yes,” Pippin agreed, his young mind soothed for the time being, and all thoughts of battles banished. “Let’s hope that… And let’s have another apple while we hope… And perhaps another after that… They’re quite delicious.”

"You’ve eaten your fill of apples, I think!" Frodo said. "Whatever happened to your plan to take some back for Merry? And it will soon be time for afternoon tea, if you can bear to fit yet more food into your belly."

Frodo glanced skyward. The early autumn winds blew in from a different direction now. Clouds gathered ominously in the distance, some miles off but moving, like crows gathering in a field of crops; and the canopy above their heads, once much brighter and quite clear, was fading slowly into grey.

"Come on, Pippin," he said, a slight chill of fear lurking deep and unexplained in his heart. "A storm’s coming. We’d best be getting back."


End file.
